Lyric Angry Young Man

There s a place in the world for the angry young man
With his working class ties and his radical plans
He refuses to bend, he refuses to crawl,
He s always at home with his back to the wall.
And he s proud of his scars and the battles he s lost,
And he struggles and bleeds as he hangs on the cross-
And he likes to be known as the angry young man.

Give a moment or two to the angry young man,
With his foot in his mouth and his heart in his hand.
He s been stabbed in the back, he s been misunderstood,
It s a comfort to know his intentions are good.
And he sits in a room with a lock on the door,
With his maps and his medals laid out on the floor-
And he likes to be known as the angry young man.

I believe I ve passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage
I found that just surviving was a noble fight.
I once believed in causes too,
I had my pointless point of view,
And life went on no matter who was wrong or right.

And there s always a place for the angry young man,
With his fist in the air and his head in the sand.
And he s never been able to learn from mistakes,
So he can t understand why his heart always breaks.
But his honor is pure and his courage as well,
And he s fair and he s true and he s boring as hell-
And he ll go to the grave as an angry old man.